Firehouse Blues (I Got You)
by WhiteInkAndPaperSkin
Summary: Daryl is a fireman at the local house, the youngest on the team, only 19. Going into a burning building to save Carol Peletier not only almost kills him but sets a fire inside that no amount of water can dash out. Rated for eventual smut. AU. Eventual zombieverse. Multi-chap Daryl/Carol, Merle/Beth, Maggie/Glenn, Rick/Michonne, Andrea/Milton,
1. I Got You

"_I got you, you're okay. I got you." _The words hit Carol Peletier through a thick fog and she chokes, gagging on something she can't place, gasping and heaving as she fights to get air into her lungs. Smoke, she realizes, she's gagging on the smoke clogging her lungs. But why is there smoke? "_I got you, breathe for me, come on Carol __**breathe!**_" Carol diligently sucked in a mouthful of air, trying to understand just where she was and what was going on.

Hot. She quickly gauged that she was very hot, too hot. Her skin was burning and she didn't realize she was full-blown screaming until she was forced against a very warm chest, cradled in strong arms.

"Take a deep breath into this." Something was held against her face and she took in a large lungful of oxygen, heaving gratefully as she was graciously allowed another dozen lungfuls of air before Daryl returned the device to his face. "You have some serious burns but I'm going to get you out and you're going to be just fine, alright?"

"How-" Carol coughed a few times and Daryl gave her another hit off the breathing tank before she could continue. "How did you know my name?"

"Your nametag." Carol remembers she's still wearing her visitor's badge from the school, her head swimming and she tries to recall the fuzzy images. Her breathing begins to stutter and Daryl places the mask firmly over her mouth, attaching it to her head so it won't slip. "You can rest, but don't you fall asleep on me, ya hear? I want you conscious."

So Carol looks up at him with big eyes and a very far away expression. She watches the pink in his cheeks, where his skin is ruddy from the heat and the way sweat drips down his face and neck. He's got such blue eyes, even through the mask and the helmet, they're so blue. She's jarred from her staring when he kicks a support beam and darts under the falling rubble, keeping her safe against his chest.

"You okay?" He's panting by now, his voice low and scratchy and carol realizes she has all the oxygen. With fumbling fingers she pries it off her face and presses the mask to his mouth, her vision once again swimming.

She doesn't even get the chance to answer his question before everything is fading to black and she's gone.

* * *

"Severe smoke exposure, third degree burning up the left side, fractured arm, she's coding, shit she's coding! Code blue!"

Carol hears running feet and a female voice from very far away, like she's standing at the end of a tunnel and is unable to force herself to come back. Everything fades out again, nothing but a sea of black and hurt and a strangely familiar warmth, heavy in her hand.

* * *

"How is she doing, Doc?" Daryl Dixon was still in his fireman's uniform, suspenders slipping down his back. There were tubes in his nose and an IV pumping him with fluids in his arm. He'd 'been in the burning building too long' and it'd 'sucked the moisture out of him' or some bullshit like that.

"The Peletier girl? Oh, besides some burns and an exposure to smoke, she's gonna be fine, thanks to you Mr. Dixon, you saved her life, you know." The doctor gave him an approving look as he began adjusting his stethoscope. "Now, take a deep breath when I ask you to, okay?"

"Sure, Doc." Daryl hates doctors and hospitals. It's taking everything he has not to rip the goddamn IV out and run like hell back to his house. But, he has to make sure she's gonna be okay, if only for his own sanity.

"Dixon!" Firehouse chief Abraham Ford stomped into the room, tracking soot in, his face flushed in anger. "I thought I told you to watch your ass! We can't keep sending you to the ER!" Abraham raked a hand over his short cropped hair and sighed, voice softening. "Just because you're only nineteen you think that gives you the right to be some cocky asshole? I aughtta fire your ass right here and now-"

"There was a girl. In the house. There was a **girl. In the fucking house you swore up and down was empty.**" Daryl was positively seething. "THERE WAS A FUCKING GIRL IN THE HOUSE. THE HOUSE YOU FUCKING SWORE UP AND DOWN WAS EMPTY AND THAT NO ONE WAS IN THERE. SHE WAS FUCKING IN THERE." He stood up, way too fast, his head swam, the room spun and everything went to black.

* * *

When Daryl came to his head was pounding and he groaned, relieved he was free of the oxygen tubes. The IV was still firmly hooked into his arm and he shook his head slowly, eyes rolling to look up at the person standing next to his bed. It's his brother, Merle, dressed in army fatigues with a very distant expression on his face.

"Hey little brother, looks like you're beat to shit. They called me up and told me to take your ass home, you're all better girl scout." Merle laughs, the sound cocky and arrogant, but his face softens almost instantly, and he sighs. "The hell were you thinking? Running back into that burning two story when the foundation was coming loose? You got a death wish, boy?"

"A girl," Daryl rasped, cutting off to cough into his hand.

"Ah, I see you're awake Mr. Dixon, good you gave us quite a scare." The nurse who entered had a soft smile, blonde hair and her name tag read AMY in blocky, print letters. "You can go home today, but you have to take a tank of oxygen and use it for the next five days, so we get all that smoke out of your lungs." She motioned to the small, back-pack sized oxygen tank sitting beside the bed. "You're very brave for what you did, Ms. Peletier wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you." Amy flashed him a smile and scribbled down a few notes on her clipboard, taking his temperature, heart rate and checking his breathing for a final time before giving him the okay to go home.

"You can head home, Merle. I wanna check in on that girl, make sure she gonna be alright." Daryl slipped the tube over his ears and into his nose, shouldering the air tank despite the whine that came from his sore shoulders.

"I'll meet you in the car." Was Merle's only reply as he made his way out the door, not even giving Amy the time of day. 'Huh,' Daryl thought, offhandedly. 'Maybe he has changed.'

He shook the thought off and spoke to the nurse, getting Carol's room number. He couldn't quell the nervousness growing in his stomach as he got into the elevator to head to the minor ICU unit.

* * *

So, this is gonna be a couple chapters at least, I'm just kinda spit balling ideas around right now, I got the idea from a line of a fanfiction I read that said "I got you." (yes it was porn but still) and it sparked the idea for this story. Lemme know if you feel I should continue or if I should just scrap it.


	2. Do You Know

Daryl stood, wringing his hands as the nurse spoke to Carol about letting him visit her. What if she didn't want to see him? It was his fault she was so badly burned, after all, if he'd gotten to her faster, she wouldn't be so bent out of shape. Guilt hit him hard as a freight train and he actually stumbled backwards, spinning on a dime he was ready to turn tail and run when the glass door slid open seamlessly and the nurse exited, taking off her mask.

"As long as you wash your hands and wear a facial mask, you have the okay to go in. Visiting hours are until seven and you need to be careful to sterilize yourself thoroughly, the smoke did a number on her lungs and her immune cells aren't doing so hot either, the last thing her spent body needs is an infection." The nurse had a clipped, pissy voice and Daryl didn't bother answering, just stomped over to a nearby sink and used nearly scalding water to get the grime, soot and muck off his thickly calloused fingers. He fumbled with one of the little masks, getting it in place against his mouth and nose, before pushing the button to slide open the door.

The woman laying on the bed was awake and seemingly alert, looking at him with wide blue eyes, her soft, dark hair framing her very soft face, half of which was bandaged from where the flames had burned her. Her entire right side was pretty much bandaged, her arm, her hand, her visible leg and even her surprisingly slender neck. She was hooked into tubes, IVs, a heart monitor and a million wires Daryl was immediately terrified of ruining.

He sat gingerly in the chair next to her bed and smiled at her through his mask, cocking his head to the left, just so, as he studied her. She was beautiful, he'd give her that, even bandaged and broken as she looked in that bed.

"You okay?" He finally asked, after a long while of just silence. He knows it's a stupid question, she's in the ICU for Christ's sake, but it's just one of those questions you ask, without knowing why.

"Well," she spoke in a quiet, but high voice. "The right side of my body is pretty burned up, I have an IV in to hydrate me, they're pumping me full of painkillers, feeding me almost straight oxygen through a tube in my nose to flush out my lungs and the muscles and nerves in my right leg may be totally gone due to the severe burns, but I'm alive. Thanks to you." She offered him half of a smile and it made his heart clench in a way he'd not only never felt before but was definitely not comfortable with.

"I'm real sorry I didn't get you out sooner. If I'd have found you earlier, you wouldn't be so beat up. I'm sorry, I tried, there was just so much smoke and the house was comin' down and Gawd, I did try." He bit back anything else me might say, biting viciously at his tongue to quell the onslaught of emotion that was threatening to tear him down.

"You saved my life! There isn't a thing you need to apologize for, Mr-... I'm afraid I don't know your name." Carol's face turned a delicate shade of pink under the heat spots on her cheeks.

"Daryl. My name's Daryl. But still, if I'da gotten there sooner, you'd be in better shape." Carol was distracted momentarily by the blue of his eyes and how, even stained with heat spots, beautiful his cheeks were.

"I'm Carol, hey we rhyme." She smiled, softly but her face grew somber. "I wasn't the only person in that house. My boyfriend, Ed, was in there too. The firemen found his body and tried to apologize." She paused. "Do you know why my house was on fire, Daryl?" Her tone was calm, pleasant, but detached somehow. "I was going to leave him, because he beat a baby out of me, I had my bags packed and I was going to leave him. So he tied me to the kitchen chair, got high and fell asleep with a cigarette in his mouth." Her voice never shook, but tears welled in her good eye. "I was five months pregnant."

"Oh gawd." Daryl's hands shook and in that moment he saw vivid red. He quickly counted backwards from ten in his head, before speaking again. "What are you gonna do now? Do you have anywhere to go?" He wasn't angry with Carol of course, but now he was looking, really looking at her. She was different now, a survivor.

She had warm blue eyes, well, eye, and the skin that wasn't bandaged was smooth and incredibly soft looking. She was tiny, small arms, a delicate wrist and slender hand, wide hips, small breasts he forced himself not to linger on, and legs that went on for miles. But hidden under the beauty, he began to notice scars, cigarette burns on the inside of her elbow, a deep scar running up her leg, marks that littered the visible parts of her and he assumed the worst wasn't visible. She had freckles dotting the left half of her nose, heat stains on her cheeks from the fire, and a very soft looking mouth. He wondered, briefly, what kissing her would taste like, but shook the thought off with little hesitancy.

And while Daryl looked at her, Carol looked right back at him, avoiding his question, to be sure, but she was also curious about the man that had nearly died to save her. He had heat stains on his cheeks and down his neck, scruff that looked a few days without a shave peeking from under the face mask, incredible blue eyes and a deep-set brow, like he was constantly worried about any and everything. She couldn't see his mouth, so she looked at his hands, resting in his lap. They had long, calloused fingers with thick knuckles and dozens of small scars. They were strong hands, hands that looked like they may not know how to be gentle. The thought made her wince and she shook her head, snapping out of it long enough to answer his question.

"No, I don't. I guess I'll just figure it out as I go." The monitor next to her began to shriek, the beeping speeding as the nerves finally bled in. "I can't afford this hospital bill either, they'll have to kick me out because I don't have any money. It was all in Ed's name." The monitor was absolutely screaming now and the nurses rushed in, shooing Daryl out.

"What the hell did you say to her? Her heart rate skyrocketed." Amy was in front of him, hands on her hips and looking absolutely pissed the fuck off.

"I asked if she had anywhere to go! I didn't mean to give her a fuckin' heart attack. Oh, by the way, put all her bills in my name, I don't want her to so much as think about a price tag, ya hear me?" He put on his best 'I'm a pissed off redneck' face, but Amy just gave him a knowing smile.

"You like her. But fine, the bills will be put in your name. Now go home, she's asleep till tomorrow, you can come back and visit then." She nudged him in the shoulder and Daryl growled, but went on his way.

Amy was a kid sister of Andrea, a lawyer that usually represented the firehouse. He hadn't recognized her at first, but he'd known her sister a long time and they got along fairly well, she was a good kid. He sighed and got into the car, where Merle was finishing a smoke.

"Bout damn time." Merle slammed the door and gunned the engine, the old '67 Chevy groaning in protest. "The hell took you so long, boy?"

Daryl chose not to answer, instead he lit a smoke and fixed his gaze on the quickly retreating hospital.

* * *

I'll post chapter 3 when I have 15 reviews. I currently have 9, so, there you go, have some incentive. Thanks for those of you who favorited/followed it really means a lot to me, and thanks to those of you have already replied. I already have chapter 3 half written and am going to keep writing, but I won't post unless I get 15 reviews, only six more needed!


	3. Coke Lines

Let me remind you guys, I'm doing this from a character view point. I don't feel like this toward any one character. There is a lot of Merle mouth in this chapter. I only have nine reviews, not fifteen, but this chapter is a gift. I seriously won' update again until we get to fifteen reviews! Please guys, I love reviews, they make me happy 3

* * *

Merle sighed, allowing himself the small victory. His brother hadn't noticed and he'd kept his cool. He lined up another column, making it longer this time, quickly folded the dollar bill and took the whole line in one go. He sat back, the buzz hitting him, fingers drumming on the steering wheel and damn, this was some good shit. His head was swimming, his veins were singing and Merle Dixon was so far gone. He sat there in the front seat of that piece of shit car, cocaine flowing through his system and, for no apparent reason, he began to cry.

Large, fat crocodile tears that seeped down his face and settled in the scruff on his chin. He was twenty five years old, a fucking man for Christ's sake, and he was blubbering like a baby. The cab of the truck was suddenly too close, the walls were creeping in and he fumbled with the handle, falling out of the cab and into the puddle he'd been assanine enough to park next to.

Merle Dixon simply sat there, in a puddle next to his truck, high off his ass, sobbing like a baby for how long, he didn't know.

"Um, excuse me sir, are you gonna be alright?" Merle looked up and there was a concerned looking woman with soft blonde hair and baby blue eyes. She bent beside him, offering him a red handkerchief to wipe the muck from his face. "Are you hurt? Are you okay, sir?"

Merle's mouth felt too much like mush to answer, so he just nodded and wiped his face down. He frowned, handing it back as the traitorous tears finally subsided. He snuffed once, before looking away in humiliation.

"M'fine girlie." He growled, standing up, trying to ignore how wet his cargos and boots were, it was quickly getting uncomfortable. "Mind your own fuckin' business!"

The woman looked like she'd been slapped and stood up, stiffly, tucking that handkerchief into her purse. "I'm glad you're okay," was her stiff reply, before she turned and went into the hospital, leaving him there without a second though. He got back into the truck, angry and bitter.

Daryl was there, smoking a cigarette and getting into the truck, a far off look on his face.

"Bout damn time." Merle slammed the door and gunned the engine. "The hell took you so long, boy?"

Daryl didn't answer and Merle sighed, turning into traffic. His high was fading fast, they never seemed to last as long these days, for whatever reason.

As he drove down the congested highway he let his thoughts fall back to that girl, licking his lips subconsciously. She was a hot young thing, maybe Daryl's age and Merle would sure as fuck like to show her a few things in the sack. She looked like she was itching for a good time, sassy bitch probably needed a stiff one. He lit a laced smoke and tried to let off steam, guilt plaguing him.

He felt guilty. It wasn't her fault he was an angry, strung-out junky. That was his fault, no one else had control over that. He should've gotten clean a long time ago, he should've done a lot of things a long time ago.

Daryl was quiet and Merle decided not to say anything, just parked the car in front of their trailer and got out, grinding the butt of his smoke into the dirt before heading inside.

He grabbed a beer from the fridge and planted his ass in front of the TV, cracking it open and taking a long drink. Glancing at his phone, he realized he needed to be to work in five hours and sighing. Slamming the beer, he headed into his room, pulling off his shirt, kicking off his boots and removing his belt he dropped into bed, setting the alarm before falling into a very thick sleep.

* * *

I do not think of Beth as she was thought of in this chapter, I do not condone or recommend doing drugs and none of the characters in the story so far are my own, except the one nurse.


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